The Justice Games
by Twilight Warrior 1994
Summary: AU. Basically the Hunger Games, Young Justice style.
1. Chapter 1

**_Let me say now, I do know that I'll include Artemis, Roy, Jade, Oliver, Dinah, Dick, Billy, Queen Bee, Lex Luthor, and Kaldur. The other tributes from the other districts will either be the same name but the physical description is different, or a character from later in season 2, because I can't bear to kill most of the original characters._**

**_On with the story_**

* * *

The sun was just rising, the air still a bit cool. I was pulling my long blonde hair away from my face into a ponytail at the nape of my neck. In the other room I could hear Roy's snores. Today was Reaping day, so everyone with a job was pardoned so they could attend the Reaping. Not that it mattered. Unless a person was at Death's door, attendance at a Reaping was mandatory.

Roy Harper was nineteen, red-haired and blue-eyed, and head over heels in love with my older sister Jade, who was eighteen, and had the typical apperance of those lving in the Seam; olive colored skin with wild black hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes along with an air of hardship that makes her seem older than eighteen. I was similar except for my blonde hair, a gift from my father.

Anyone with half a brain in their head knew that marriage for Roy and Jade was not far off. What only the three of us knew was that Jade was two months pregnant. When he had turned nineteen, to help support his soon-to-be wife, child, and sister-in-law, Roy immediately applied for work at the mine, which was pretty much the only source of income for someone living in the Seam.

The Seam was the poorest part of District Twelve, with most of its residents either dying young from starvation or sickness. Six years earlier, a massive explosion in the mines had killed both our parents, as it had Roy's and many others. And in the years afterward, Jade and I managed to survive, sometimes on nothing more than brains and skills.

Our parents were some of the few that knew alternative ways to survive, and they taught us, teaching us both how to hunt with a bow and arrow (though I was better at it and prefered it) and to identify the edible plant life that existed in the Meadow, the name for the dark, scruffy woods that lined a chain link fence that was supposed to be charged with electricity, but most days was not.

Today was one of them, and I quickly crawled under a large hole in chain link, making it halfway into the woods before stopping at a hollow tree containing two bows and two quivers of arrows wrapped in waterproof tarp. I briefly wondered if my sister and Roy would join me, before hoping they would not.

Roy and Jade had felt it necessary to work to offer what hunting could not, and usually both came home exhausted and bone weary, Roy even more so because he was no longer eligible for tesserae.

You see, if you are poor and starving, like almost everyone alive in the Seam, then a person can choose to add their name to the draw for the Justice Games in exchange for tesserae, which is worth one year's measly supply of grain and oil. This lasts until the age of nineteen, when one officially becomes ineligible to enter. When we and Roy lost our parents, Jade and Roy started to apply for tesserae. I, who was only nine when the accident happened, offered to sign up when I was eligible, but Jade told me in no uncertain terms that she would kill me if I did.

I couldn't complain after that. From Jade a death threat was the equivalent of a hug.

Farther into the woods was Dick, who was hanging from his knees from a tree branch at least thirteen feet from the ground, laughing that gleeful, mischief filled laugh of his. Dick was as close to a friend as I would ever say I have, though I know many look at eigthteen-year-old him and fifteen- year-old me and think there's more to our relationship than there really is.

"I come bearing gifts", said Dick, carefully removing from his coat pocket a small loaf of bakery bread, the good stuff that most people would save for a special occasion.

When his parents were killed in the mine explosion, Dick Grayson, along with two other boys and girls named Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, and Stephanie Brown, were adopted by Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle-Wayne, who had their own children, Damian and Helena.

Bruce Wayne was the current mayor of District Twelve, and the man who managed to stay extremely wealthy, at least by District Twelve standards. And though he was wealthy enough that he never had to, Bruce Wayne was just as capable a hunter as a poor man, and taught Dick and his step brothers and sisters to do the same.

"What did that cost you?" I asked him. "A squirrel", Dick answered, "I guess the old guy was feeling bad given today." For the longest time we just sat at the base of that tree, doing nothing other than enjoying the bread and each others company. The woods were the only place where we felt free, where we could say what we wanted without fear of repercussions.

Finally, we couldn't ignore it anymore and we got up to return to our homes, both of us knowing that tonight two families would lock their doors and grieve for the child that they would surely lose in the Games.

When I got home, I found Roy and Jade sitting at the table, both dressed as nicely as they could be. "I laid something out for you", Jade told me, who gave a quiet thanks and, after a quick bath, found a dress, one of our mother's, a jade green number with cap sleeves that stopped just at the knees, laid neatly out on my bed.

"Let's put your hair up", Jade said, giving me a braided up do, trying to keep the slivers of worry out of her voice, because, however tough she may have appeared to be, I knew that she loved me deeply and hated the idea that this could be the year I'm taken away to die.

"You look nice", Roy told me, leaning on the door frame, also trying to keep up his calm. We weren't buddy-buddy, but we were friendly, for Jade's sake anyway."Thank you", I said.

* * *

The walk to the square seemed to take a much shorter time than normal. Already at least half the population of District Twelve was arrived and signed in. When Jade and I were signed in, we were quickly moved to stand with the other girls in our age group. I find myself standing next to Bette Kane, a blonde girl from school whose parents were merchants in the market.

Up on stage was Bruce Wayne and his wife, Selina, and next to them was Beatriz, or Queen Bee as she was known around the Capitol, a dark-haired and skinned woman whose attempts to not seem cold and ruthless failed miserably. When the clock struck two, Bruce finally stood up at the podium and said the usual speech: about the history of Metropolis, how it rose up out the ashes and all this other nonsense that I (having had three years of practice) managed to totatlly tune out.

In the middle of Bruce's speech, Oliver Queen, the only living winner for District Twelve, a total drunk, was half dragged, half carried onto the stage by his wife, Dinah Lance Queen. Bruce finally ended his speech with announcing Queen Bee to the podium.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome. Happy Justice Games everyone! And may the odds be ever in your favor." says Queen Bee inher usual cold voice, "Ladies first!" she said, already walking to the glass ball that held the names. She reached in and dug around, and after what felt like forever, she finally pulled out a name. And when she said it, it hit me dead center in the heart.

"Jade Crock"

* * *

**_And that's all for now. _**


	2. Chapter 2

The words, those two simple words, my sister's name, made me feel like all the breath in my body had been pushed out by a punch to the gut. Jade's face was cold and composed, although it usually was. I could tell the fear and despair I felt was reflected on mine.

But truth be told it wasn't as much for my sister as it was her baby. My niece or nephew. Jade could survive anything anyone threw at her, even the Justice Games. She always could. But the baby... he or she was completely defenseless. A nasty blow to the stomach, starvation or dehydration, even the stress of a certain situation could cause a miscarriage.

Jade was walking up to the stage. I was only half aware that I was running up to her. I was a little less than half aware that I was calling out "Jade!", in a high-pitched kind of voice.

I was fully aware when I walked in front of Jade and say "I volunteer as tribute."

I can hear gasps from all around me. There probably hasn't been a District Twelve tribute volunteer in... _**ever**_. Definetely not in any Games I remember watching.

The rule goes that when a tribute's name has been called, some other eligible person can come up and take their place. Now, in the higher up Districts, where winning the Games is an extreme honor, volunteers come out of the woodwork.

But not in the lower Districts. And never ever in District Twelve.

"Wonderful!" Queen Bee says in her cold monotone. "But there are proper channels to go through when volunteering. Uh, Mr. Wayne?"

"Does it matter?" Bruce says, both he and Selina clearly disturbed to see me, me, the girl their oldest son runs around the District with. The girl who sometimes comes over to their big house to do nothing more than sit in Dick's company. "Let her come forward if it's what she wants."

"No!" That comes from Jade, who turns me around to face her, so she can tell me how pointless it was to volunteer for her. I'm surprised to see the tear tracks running down her face. And then there's Roy, who's pulling her away, and telling me to go on up. Let me just say it takes a lot to make me move up onto the stage

"Marvelous!" says Queen Bee, clearly happy to see the pain and shock this has caused. "And what's your name dear?"

"Artemis-" My voice comes out kinda squeaky, so I stop, swallow and try again. "Artemis Crock", I say, managing to put some nerve into my voice so that it doesn't come out as a squeak this time.

"And I'll just bet that was your sister just now! Well, come along then everyone! Give a big round of applause to District Twelve's newest tribute." says Queen Bee.

No one claps. Maybe it's because they know me from around Gotham, the black market that's set up in several abandoned coal warehouses. Maybe it's because they know Jade or Roy, who I can see are standing far in the back, Roy's arms wrapped tightly around Jade, who's back is turned to me, her shoulders clearly shaking.

Then the people do the unexpected. Every person holds two fingers of their right hand, like they're making a two or one of those olld peace signs, to their lips and then hold them out to me. This is a very old, almost forgotten tradition, almost always seen at funerals. It means respect, it means love, it means goodbye to someone you love.

At this time Oliver Queen decides to congratulate me, staggering across the stage, Dinah not to far behind. "I like you!" He's shouting, throwing one arm across my shoulders and breathing alcohol fumes all over me. "Your probably going to die in a week, but I still like you!"

It takes her some doing, but Dinah finally pulls her husband away from me and off the stage, to the obvious happiness of Queen Bee.

"And now it's time for the boys!" Clearly happy at the turn of events, Queen Bee has a smile on her face the whole time she's digging around in the names. "Kaldur'ahm."


	3. Chapter 3

_Kaldur'ahm. Why? Why him? Of all people why did it have to be him?_ My fearful thoughts turned to this, all the while Kaldur'ahm walked up to the stage, which seemed to take an eternity.

Everyone in District Twelve knew about Kaldur'ahm, and if they didn't, it was because they were either dead or unborn when he first got here.

I say got here as in he was not born in District Twelve. Kaldur'ahm and his parents came to our District a little over seven years ago from District Four, the fishing district. Normally someone moving from one district to another is no big deal.

But when someone from an upper district moves to a lower district, especially Twelve, it was usually because they didn't have a choice. Or their right mind.

And if this didn't get Kaldur'ahm attention, his good looks definitely did. His skin was a milk chocolate, his eyes were light green, his hair was white blonde and close-cropped to his head, and, for reasons unknown in District Twelve, dark tattoos snaking down his arms, like a lot of the people from District Four. If I actually bothered to pay attention to boys, this might be the reason why Kaldur'ahm stuck out in my mind.

I know I wish it was.

Five years earlier, in the dead of winter in the district, the hunting and gathering hadn't gone so great. Mostly because there wasn't anything worth hunting or gathering alive or wandering about the Meadow in winter.

Jade and I were starving, Jade even more so because she insisted I eat what little we did have, taking only the smallest portions for herself. We were walking skeletons, our bones all but cutting through our skin, a little more of our strength leaving us each day.

I knew of Kaldur'ahm around school, but I had never actually spoken to him. To tell the truth I rarely bother to speak to anyone who doesn't know what it feels like to go to bed hungry, though Bette is one of the few exceptions. To me he was just the strange, quiet, new (in the mind of everyone, even now Kaldur'ahm and his family were considered new to District Twelve) boy whose mother and father opened a bakery when they arrived and sometimes traded squirrels or other meats with Jade and I.

On a certain day (I've made it a point not to remember exactly), I was walking home through the snow from school. All that day I had nodded off in my classes. Everyone knew what this meant. The teacher let me stay inside while the others ran out for lunch and recess. Dick and his brothers Jason, Tim, and Damian had all managed to slip half of their lunches into my desk (I still don't see how they possibly could have). They slipped them in and ran out so I couldn't refuse them, as I did with Bette when she came in to offer half of hers.

Even with that bit of food I was weak. I was fighting against the snow drifts, feeling the cold seep in through my ragged winter coat. Finally, I sat down at the base of a withered half-dead tree, thinking I could rest for a bit.

When I opened my eyes again, it was almost dark, and I was cold all the way through, half buried in snow. I vaguely regsitered that there were lights in the distance. And I could not have cared anyless. I thought, _I hope if anyone sees my body they'll know to take it to Jade_. And then I heard it. A soft, _thump thump_ sound that a normal person might have missed. The sound of something soft hitting the snow.

I looked up and I saw it. Or rather them. Two loaves of bread sitting in the snow.

I'm a little more alert now, looking around for something, someone, anyone. And I see him alright. Kaldur'ahm, standing on his porch. Apparently I'm just outside the bakery, above which Kaldur'ahm and his parents live.

He locked eyes with me for just a few moments before he turned around and went back inside. I thought about running after him, thought about pounding on the door until he opened it and throwing the bread at him, telling him we don't need any help.

_In District Twelve, nothing is ever free, whatever anyone might say. Don't take anything free because you will be expected to pay it back. Someday, somehow_, my father's words swirl around in my brain. He drilled that into us, his daughters, as hard as he could without actually beating it into us, knowing the kind of "favors" that could be asked for from young, beautiful women.

_But it smells so good_, I think. Surely this little act wouldn't merit any favor, and if it does it can't be a very big one.

Jade was so relieved to see me by the time I got home that she believed me right off when I told her that I stole the bread. If she had learned about Kaldur'ahm's charity she would have returned it herself.

All of this is swimming through my head by the time Kaldur'ahm walks up to the stage. Queen Bee told us, "Shake hands now." His hands were solid and warm. I was expecting them to be much softer. His eyes were warm too, very warm, to the point that I had to look away.

_I can't do this_ I thought. _I can't just kill this boy_. Then I remembered, _Hey there will be twenty four of us. _**You**_ might not have to._

Of course it's not like my chances at anything have been so hot lately.

* * *

_**See that lonely box down there? Fill it up with reviews to give it some company.**_


	4. Chapter 4

I'll admit, it was a wet dream. I dreamt I woke up and low and behold, there was Jackson Hyde, standing right next to my bed, just looking at me. I wasn't afraid or anything, like a normal person would be. More like I was expecting him.

I reached for his hand and pulled him against me. Our lips crashed together like, like, waves on the beach (yes I know how dumb that sounds but it's all I got). We fell back on my bed and just started making out like the teenagers we were. The sheets tangled around us until we threw them to the floor. Hands went places they probably wouldn't in reality. When his went up my nightgown and under my panties I woke up.

I know right? Just when it was getting good. I sat up in bed, sweating and short of breathe. My body was crying for a release that wouldn't come. I thought about finishing the job my self, then decided against it. It would just be a poor substitute for the real thing. The numbers of my alarm clock told me it was just past one in the morning.

The rain was of course coming down. It was music to my ears. I got out of bed, went down the stairs quiet as possible (not hard for the daughter of professional thieves) to the back door, grateful it didn't creak when I opened it and stepped outside.

The rain was more consistent with a shower, and it was warm for march, again for which I was grateful. I was soaked through instantly, my hair and nightgown plastered to my face and body, and layed down on the small lawn just beyond the porch, staring up at the night sky. Well, what there was of it through the constant cloud cover.

What was wrong with me? I'd had wet dreams before, sure, but about celebrities or my crush of the week, not about an infuriating boy I knew nothing about. Well, nothing except the fact that he can stop speeding cars with his bare hands. And then I felt it. That little sixth sense I've had all my life that tells me when to get the Hell out of dodge.

Someone was watching me. Maybe for most people they would ignore the feeling, but I didn't. It had been right more times than it had been wrong. I got up from the ground and sprinted back to the door. I turned back when I reached it. All that greeted my eyes were the expanse of forest that lined the yard.

* * *

An awkward week passed. Go figure, but near death experiences make a girl very popular. Most of them I didn't bother to learn their names. Among my new followers was Wally, who was beside himself with guilt. He made it a point to offer to hold my books or sit at our table at lunch or offer to help me with my homework. It went from amusing to annoying to pretty fast.

One thing that stuck out in my mind: How every time I had to tell the story, everyone would say how they hadn't seen Jackson next to me until they pulled the car away from us.

Oh, yeah, about Jackson: I didn't exist to him. The day after, I walked into Biology, and he was already seated at our table. I sat down, thinking he would give some sign of my presence. "Hello." He didn't so much as blink in my direction.

That was our last contact. Sort of. He stares at me all the time. I know he does. He is now, at his table across the lunch room. I never looked back. I wasn't the one who started this little game. There was no way in Hell I would be the one to end it. I sat with friends at our table. Barbara spoke as I did. "Hey! Star Beach baby. You in?"

"Should I know what that means?" I asked, looking to Bette for answers. She took pity on me "One of the beaches in Star City. A bunch of us are driving are driving up there this weekend. Would you like to come?"

I did like the beach. Mom would just be happy I had friends to go with. So I said yes. Lunch passed in relative silence after that. At least on my part. Jackson's eyes bored into the back of my head the whole time.

* * *

Professor Palmer was late, so I drew in my sketchbook. I was just shading in my mother's eyes when the chair next to me pulled back. I never looked up. Well, I didn't until he spoke. "That is lovely." I nearly put my pencil through her pupil.

I looked up at him. He was looking at my mother. Well, a sketch of her anyway. "Thanks." He looked away then. It pissed me off more than it should have. "You know your little mood swings are giving me whiplash."

"It is better than we do not have contact with each other."

"What is **that** even supposed to mean?"

"It means, if you were smart, you would do better to stay away from me."

"Well lets say I'm not smart. Would you tell me how you stopped the car?"

"I experienced an adrenaline rush." It **did **explain a few things. I was still pissed though. Lucky for him Professor Palmer walked in. To be perfectly honest, I have no know idea what he said the whole period. All I know is that Jackson stared at me every few minutes. I didn't bother to return the look. When class ended he followed me as I walked to my locker to exchange my books.

Don't ask me why I did what I did then. That's between me and God.

I turned to him and asked "A bunch of us are going up to Star Beach this weekend. Would you like to come with us?"

"Who is 'us'?

"Me, Bette Kane, Wally West, Barbara Gordon, Zatanna Zatara and some of their friends." His handsome face soured. "I do not think it such a good idea." **My** face soured. I turned back to black hole of my locker, hiding my disappointment and hoping he would just leave. He didn't.

"Artemis, we- we should not be friends."

To say I was pissed be an understatement. "You should have figured that out a little sooner. Then you could've let Wally's car crush me and save yourself all this regret." He got that infuriated look I was all to familiar with. "You believe I regret saving you?"

"I can see that you do- I just don't know why."

"You do not know anything."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No." And he turned and walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

I spent that night on the train crying, thinking about my family. I wasn't really sure why. Jade could take whatever came her way and then some, always could, especially when my life was on the line, and Roy was far from a lightweight. Still, the tears welled up until I decided to just let them flow freely and uninterrupted.

When I woke up the next morning, my head hurt, my eyes were red and my mood was irritable. The last thing I wanted to do was see another human being. Still, hunger won out, so I dressed and made my way to the dining room.

And there was Queen Bee, sitting by herself in a corner, primping in a little hand mirror, and Kaldur'ahm, talking to Oliver Queen, who was sitting at the table with Dinah. They all glanced at me when I entered, Kaldur'ahm actually getting up and pulling out my chair for me again.

Kaldur'ahm sat back down before he said to me "I was just asking Mr. Queen about strategy." Oliver gave a humorless laugh and replied "Here's your strategy; survive."

And this four word sentence alone made me see red. "That's funny," I told him, simultaneously grabbing a fancy knife and stabbing it into the table between his fingers. "But not to me."

Everyone went silent, except for Queen Bee who angrily muttered "That was antique mahogany." Oliver looked at his wife and went "I like this one." Then he looked back to me and asked, "Can you hit anything with that knife, besides a motionless table?"

Now I wasn't not bad at throwing knives, though Jade was undoubtably better. At first I didn't want to do anything Oliver asked of me. He was a drunken fool who hadn't kept a tribute alive since he became a mentor. What could he possibly teach me?

But then Jade, and Roy and my not yet born niece or nephew flashed through my mind. This was the man who is supposed to help me get back to them. I needed to get in good with him. So I pried the knife from the table, got a good hold of the blade, and threw it at the wall across from us. I was just hoping it would stick, but amazingly it lodged directly between two panels, making me look better than I really was.

Oliver looked impressed, as did Dinah. Kaldur'ahm not so much. "Both of you, stand up. Please," Dinah asked us. We did, and they both circled us, making a little comment to each other now and then, like "She's mostly muscle. Good for her, bad for her stylist" and "Like to see what they make of this kid's tatt's". Finally they both faced us.

Dinah was the one who spoke. "Here's the deal. As long as both of you do everything we say, I'll make sure Oliver stays sober enough to help you. And you'll have my unofficial mentoring." Both of us nodded. It wasn't a great deal, but it was probably the best we were gonna get.

And even Kaldur'ahm knew better than to argue with Dinah Lance-Queen, daughter of the former head Peacekeeper, who was known around the Seam as the Black Canary. Canary because supposedly she could charm anyone who met her. Black because she could take anyone she couldn't charm.

Dinah nodded in response to us. "Good. Now, we're about to pull into the station. From there, you two will be taken to meet your personal stylists, who will prepare you for the opening ceremonies."

I'm sure my face was reflecting how I felt about the "prepare" thing, because Dinah chuckled and told me "It won't be very pleasant, but it's not like they mean to harm you. Just do what they say."

I nodded to that. I mean, I'd survived everything else thrown at me. How bad could a few hours of primping be?

* * *

Very very bad, was the answer. I'd been in the Remodel Center for about three hours, and I still hadn't met my so-called stylist. What had happened was that my body had been scrubbed until I was completely free of any kind of dirt, along with a few layers of skin. My nails had been manicured. First, and probably last, time in my life.

Right now, three members of my prep team are ridding my body of any hair that isn't on my head.

A very very pale red-headed woman with green flowery vine tattoos called Ivy was waxing my legs, another red-head, a young, giggly, happy girl with bright green skin maybe my age named Megan, was plucking my eyebrows. The third member, yet another red-head but the only normal looking member, named Whisper, was standing of to the side, complementing my success.

"You're doing a good job. If there's anything I hate most it's a whiny tribute. Rub her down ladies!"

Ivy and Megan rubbed some kind of lotion over me, one that first stung then soothed my angry skin. After that they had me stand naked while they looked me over, occasionally plucking a hair that had escaped their first assault. If I should have been embarrassed I wasn't. Mostly because even I knew I had nothing to be embarrassed of. Secondly because these women seemed so unnatural themselves.

Eventually they stepped back and admired their work. Whisper declared "Viola! Now you look like a human being." It made the phony smile I'd been using for the last three hours slip a little, so I remembered Dinah's words. I hadn't snapped once so far. Why start now?

"Thank you for all your hard work. We don't have very good reasons to dress up in Twelve." This of course plucked at their heartstrings, and they chorused me with "Of course you don't" and "Poor thing", also "When Zatanna's done you won't even recognize yourself". Then I **really** had trouble maintaining my fake smile. If I could of seen myself, I probably looked like I was in pain.

They finally left the room, to fetch Zatanna, whoever that was. I found that, though I wasn't a fan of them, I didn't exactly hate them. It's like Dinah said; they didn't mean to hurt me. They were just ridiculous. Too ridiculous to actually hate. And hey, if I'd been born in the Capitol, this could have been me.

My hands went straight my braided hair, the one thing I wouldn't let them touch. The door opened and a young woman stepped through. I'd have been shocked if she was older than thirty. Of course in the Capitol you never knew. I was also shocked by how normal she looked. Long wavy black hair, fair skin. Her clothes were a white blouse and a black skirt with sheer tights and tall boots. Her only noticable makeup was silver eyeliner that complemented her blue eyes.

"Hello Artemis. I'm Zatanna, your stylist." Her voice was also normal, if a little soft-spoken. "Hello."

"Let me say that that was probably the bravest thing I have ever seen. I'm sorry that this happened to you. I want you to know that I'm do to help you in any way I can."

Again, not what I expected. "So far all everyone's done is congratulate me."

"I don't see much point in that. Well, let me look you," She asked, walking around me in a slow circle. Again, if I should have been embarassed I wasn't. "Who did your hair?" she asked, giving the braids a light touch. "My sister." "She did a fantastic job."

I asked what had been on my mind since Zatanna first walked in. "Your new, aren't you?" Zatanna smiled and answered "Very. This is my first year in the Games." I nodded. Then it all made sense. "So they gave you the shaft and stuck you with Twelve."

She shook her head, saying "I **asked** for Twelve. It just seemed to be the place for me." Again, not what I expected. Zatanna smiled again. "You now about the tribute parade tonight, right? That you're gonna be dressed in some way that represents your district?"

"Of course. Mine is coal miners."

"Yes but that's much too simple. I just think someone so brave shouldn't be stuck in some ridiculous costume. Do you?"

I can feel a sly smile, one I know Dick would be proud of, creeping it's way along my face.

"I hope not."


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up to sunshine the next morning. The real thing too, not the pale, watery gray stuff that sometimes peaks through a break in the cloud cover. For a minute I thought it was the universe saying I'd made the right choice.

Just the warm yellow light peeking through my window exhilarated me. I wore the only skirt I had, a short black number over sheer black tights. A pale turquoise tank over a white one, my black hooded jacket and tall black wedge boots completed my ensemble. I even switched my usual black eyeliner for a sparkly silver one.

I was practically skipping down the stairs. Mom smiled when she saw me. "Beautiful day" she said.

I drove to school so far under the speed limit that old people driving past gave me dirty looks. There were only a few other kids already there. Mostly the kids who made that kind of thing a point. I was in such a hurry to get out and soak up the sun I hadn't paid any attention to the time.

I claimed a bench in the school courtyard for myself, reveling in my near solitude. I spent my time doodling. I remember hoping that today would be the day the art teacher would let us start sculpting.

Maybe you're wondering why I like art so much. I guess it's because of how I was raised.

I can fake it with the best of them. I was taught to study my target intently, to the point that I know them just as well if not better than they know themselves. Now I apply that to my school work. And since my memory is near photographic, it's not that hard. I'm a crack shot. I can pick a lock with a bobby pin in a minute or less. I learned several languages by age seven.

Art cannot be faked. It takes real talent. No question about it.

By the by, at some point I'd started drawing Jackson Hyde. A very au natural Jackson Hyde.

"Artemis!" I clutched my drawing pad to my chest. Stupid of me, but I hadn't noticed that the other kids were slowly starting to arrive and enjoy the sun themselves. I was lucky no one noticed me and my sketch. The person who'd called out to me was Wally. He was jogging over.

I could see Bette and Zatanna over his shoulder. Barbara was talking to that little freshman. If I didn't mention before his name is Dick Grayson. Selena's his stepmother. Sweet kid but creepy.

"Wow. You've got a kinda silvery blonde in your hair." It's true. I got it from years of outdoor sports. Anything that got me out of the foster parents houses. Wally gripped a strand that was fluttering in the wind between two fingers and held it right up to his eyes. Anyone else and I would've popped them. I didn't flinch when he tucked it behind my ear.

He leaned back on the bench next to me. I flipped the sketch pad close and stuffed it in my bag. "I've got something I'd like to ask you." He had a funny look on his face, like he was trying to be serious, but his usual casual and nonchalant attitude was saying "yeah don't think so". "Prom is coming up soon. Would you like to go? With me?"

Prom. If someone like me is at a prom, you'd probably expect a tub of pigs blood to fall from the ceiling at any moment. Still, my promise to my mother rang through my head. She'd probably be thrilled that I got asked to prom. Even happier if I actually went. Still, prom just wasn't me.

"I'm sorry, Wally, but I just don't care to go to prom." He didn't look very upset. "It's got nothing to do with you. At all."

"It's okay." We sat out there until the bell rang.

Jackson Hyde wasn't in school. Neither were Conner Kent or Megan Morse. I know because I looked for him for most of the morning. When I didn't see him I looked for them. As much of a loner as he seemed to be they were obviously closest to him. And I didn't see either of them.

At lunch Bette and Barbara were talking all about prom. They'd both been asked. Zatanna was just going for the Hell of it. They spent our entire lunch period making plans to go dress shopping. When they asked me if I wanted to go, I said sure.

God bless Zatanna, when she saw me looking over at they're table at lunch, she didn't call me out. She didn't say anything to the others. She did wait until we were walking out to tell me "Their not here. When we actually see the sun their not in school. Their parents get them out for hiking and camping and that stuff."

"How?" It didn't make sense to me. "I don't know."

It kinda killed my good mood. I found I was actually looking forward to shopping.

* * *

We crawled around the various malls in Gotham for hours. Bette hit all the high-end shops. You know, the kind that have prices in the hundreds up. Barbara and Zatanna stuck to the cheaper places, though Zatanna could afford better, though not as much as Bette.

They all found a nice dress at least. Bette a blinged-out red ball gown that probably cost more than my house. Barbara and Zatanna found nice ones that wouldn't put their father's into debt, in white and black each. We left the dress shops to get jewelry and shoes.

I broke off from them then, telling them I'd meet them at the restaurant we'd have dinner at later. I knew I wasn't much company to them and felt like crap for it.

I wondered all around, in and out of various shops. I dropped plenty of coin at an art supply shop. At some point I left the mall and walked the sidewalks. I couldn't tell you when. Just that I walked them long after it got dark.

That was my first mistake.

I'd looked up and found myself totally lost. No longer was I in the brightly colored plaza area full of expensive clothing shops and restaurants but surrounded by graffitied buildings and trash. I could make out syringes and crack pipes through the darkness and dirt. A mangy emaciated dog walked past, sniffing through the garbage.

There was only one apartment building that I could see. All the windows were drawn with broken blinds, the ones that weren't broken themselves.

I'd turned and walked back. I wasn't worried, not really. I'd lived in neighborhoods a lot like this before. I didn't call the girls or my mom. I just walked, hoping that I'd find my way out.

That was my second mistake.

I'd walked past a group of boys. And I mean boys. Their were five of them, only a few years older than me, leaning up against the side of a building. I didn't give them much thought. But apparently they gave me some thought because I didn't get more than a foot or two ahead of them before they started walking.

I could hear them walking behind me. They were being way to quiet. They had my attention then. A car drove past. I thought about jumping in front of it but restrained myself.

That was my third mistake.

I turned the corner and lo and behold, there was no one. The street was lined with blank concrete walls. I could see people further down. They were just too far away. Because between me and them were two more boys, looking excited at me.

I was being stupid. A few months out of the ghetto and I'd forgotten everything I knew. It pissed me off. It was obvious what they wanted. Well if they wanted it they would have to get it over my dead body.

The two in front walked closer to me, the ones behind doing the same. I stood still. They probably thought in fear. I know it was the opposite.

And then headlights flew around the corner. A red car, one that nearly slammed into the oldest of the group. It made them break away from me. And the driver stepped out.

* * *

_**I'm back with a vengeance!**_

_**Bette's dress- images/search?q=red+ball+gown&qs=n&form=QBIR&pq=red+ball+gown&sc=8-13&sp=-1&sk=#view=detail&id=D621B142B5B6086D8FAFD63FE8E823294FF3B186&selectedI ndex=45**_

_**Barbara's dress- images/search?q=Short+Puffy+White+Dresses&FORM=RESTAB#view=detail&id=2F1B17693C3F108532A858F844DFEB133AD375DD&selectedI ndex=42**_

_**Zatanna's dress- images/search?q=Black+Prom+Dresses&FORM=RESTAB#view=detail&id=1A32EEC6066994962571B9152A0AC023B6C41216&selectedI ndex=16**_


	7. Chapter 7

The very next day we were taken to the training center. Before we left Oliver told us to stick to the smaller things. Tie a snare, lift weights but don't reveal how much we can lift. "Don't let them know what your capable of until your private sessions."

All the tributes wore the same kind of work-out type outfit: knee and elbow pads, black fabric to wrap around our hands and fingers, a short-sleeved tunic made of a soft stretchy kinda fabric with a number telling the world our District on the right of our chest over black leggings with black boots.

I admit I had a good feeling getting a better look at the other tributes. Sure they were bigger than me, but it was obvious that they had never really faced life or death situations like I had.

Our instructor was a tall red-haired woman with rather bird like features who called herself Shayera. I didn't know her as a winning tribute, but she couldn't have been from Metropolis because she knew what she was doing when it came to surviving. She didn't sugar coat how most of us would probably die from the elements and not each other.

That monster of a boy called Mongul clearly didn't believe her, along with most of the Careers. The Careers are the name for the tributes from Districts 1-3, because in those Districts being chosen for the Games is seen as an honor. The kids were put in special training schools until they're about eighteen, and by then they're lethal. When they get out they volunteer. It's against the rules but since it makes for great entertainment it's overlooked.

It's almost always a Career who wins.

They looked at me and Kaldur'ahm with contempt. They went straight for the deadly weapons in the room first chance they got and handled them like they'd been born doing so. Mongul tossed a spear through a dummy's head from fifteen yards like it was nothing. The female tribute from his District, a red-head with a tattoo on the shaved half named Shimmer, threw knives into targets with ease. Kaldur'ahm and did what Oliver told us. We went for the camouflage station.

The trainer seemed happy to see us. He gushed over Kaldur'ahm's ability to swirl a combination of clay, berries, and mud around on his dark arm so that it became near indistinguishable from an actual tree. When I complemented it he smiled and said "I decorate the cakes at my mother's bakery." I'd seen those cakes. Even Jade admitted they were beautiful. Then he'd kinda looked over my shoulder.

"You have a shadow." I looked over my shoulder. He was right. The little boy from Ten ducked out of sight as soon as I laid eyes on him. His black hair and blue eyes made him look kinda like Damian, Dick's youngest brother and Bruce and Selena's biological son. Billy, his name was. Billy Batson. He was so small. It was obvious that he'd had the bad luck of being picked in his first year.

He followed us the whole time. I didn't get it but I didn't mind it either. Except on the third day.

Mongul snapped at the tribute from Seven, thinking he'd stolen his knife. I look up and, lo and behold, there was Billy, relaxing in the netting hanging from the ceiling, holding a knife and looking smug. The girl from his district, a red-head named Barbara Gordon, looked up at him with the same smug look.

And despite Oliver's order to appear average, Kaldur'ahm wiped the floor in hand-to-hand combat, and I breezed through the edible plants test.

We took a break for a minute to look at our fellow tributes. The Careers stuck to the more combat type stations and the ones who had gone to the other stations had dubious looks on their faces, like they thought there was no way it could work.

That's how the first four days passed. On the fifth the Gamemakers showed up early on in training. About twenty men and women dressed impeccably sitting in the elevated stands in the back of the gymnasium, looking and taking notes, eating from the ridiculously large banquet set up for them or consulting with a trainer when we ate lunch but never once talking to any tribute. A few times though I looked up and met the eyes of one before he or she hurriedly looked away and pretended like they hadn't.

On the sixth day we're one by one called for our private session, district by district, "ladies first" followed by their male counterpart. No one came back after. We, that is Kaldur'ahm and myself, were alone with each other when a robotic voice called my name. We didn't look at each other when I stood up. Before I got out the door, Kaldur'ahm called my name. I turned back to look at him.

"Shoot straight." I nodded a short nod that was more like a head tremor of some kind.

The Gamemakers didn't even acknowledge me, instead talking among themselves. I knew I was in trouble. They'd done this twenty-three times now. They were drunk and as ready to get out of there as I was. There was nothing I could do about it. I walked to the weapons station. I'd been chafing at the bit to get my hands on one of those bows every time one of the Careers looked at me like I was nothing.

I chose a bow, strung it and walked to the starting line for the targets some fifteen feet away. I planted my feet at shoulder width, drew back, shot... and missed the bull's-eye by five inches. Fortunately, or unfortunately, not one of the Gamemakers was looking at me. I repeated the gesture, hitting the bull's-eye dead-on. And still not a glance at me.

And suddenly a waiter pushed in a wheeled cart holding a roasted pig. **That** got their attention. It was infuriating. There I was, trying to get their attention, with my life on the line and they couldn't even pretend that they were paying attention to me.

I wasn't really aware that I had grabbed an arrow and was drawing it back until suddenly the apple that was in the pigs mouth was instead lodged in the wall behind it, my arrow holding it place.

The Gamemakers got quiet then, looking at me in disbelief. "Thank you, for you consideration," I said, giving them a slight bow before walking toward the exit.

* * *

_**This day has sucked royally for me. Now I'm gonna go drown my sorrows in some Blue Bunny cookies n' cream and Pepsi. Please leave a review to brighten it up.**_


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